I left all my credit cards and cigarettes

With anarchists and malcontents.

With smeared hope on every hard-earned dime,

Sweat and bled from nine to five—

God, it’s all just dirt and dust and grime,

To be reminted and imbibed

By starred men in stripped bow tie.

Oh, I could light a new match and light up myself,

But the darkness is old and deeper than it looks,

Full of all mirrors and shameless crooks.

The only thing to fear was fear itself,

Excepting terrorists, embarrassment or ill-health.

And I may have lost six pounds but what I found

Was something worse.